


me too

by bemorebim (heavenbreak)



Series: only time [3]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, POV Second Person, evans pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenbreak/pseuds/bemorebim
Summary: you don't remember the last time he was this sincere. you don't remember the last time you were this honest.





	me too

**Author's Note:**

> decided to finish a ficlet from ten months ago  
> um im not into deh anymore but some asks on tumblr led me to revisit the kleinsen dynamic :'^)

“This better be important because I was _literally_ about to start my paper. I've been... procrastinating all day.” Jared mutters into his desk microphone. He opens a Word document on one of his monitors as you fidget on the other line, stuttering through your words.

“O—oh. I’m sorry, I’ll just... go—“

“It’s fine,” Jared sighs, loudly typing away at his keyboard to prove his point. That should be the English paper. “What do you want?”

There is a sound of shuffling from your side. Jared purses his lips, accidentally typing out two consecutive periods with his rattling hands, consequential to the unsettling silence from you. Then, he hears a door being shut and promptly locked. It’s currently two in the morning, not so much a rare occurrence for you to stay up this late with nothing else to do. You slip into bed and sigh, “Nothing.”

“You want ‘nothing’. Okay, fine, since I’m such a good _friend_.”

You spend the next fifteen minutes still on the line— Jared typing away as you toss and turn in your bed with your phone pressed into your ear, listening to the rhythmic taps and clicks from the keyboard by the tips of Jared’s fingers. You hear the softest yawn, followed by the sound of sipping coffee. It’s almost weird, spending a night like this with _Jared_ of all people— but there’s something oddly calming about staying up late together, the white noise and occasional sounds of gentility from your phone giving you somewhat a sense of his presence. You could fall asleep like this, about to drift into unconsciousness until Jared chuckles and your eyes shoot open.

“Holy shit, you really are asking for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do.” You shrug reflexively. He types some more until he briefly stops. You can hear some mouse clicks, Jared curiously humming. “That’s English, right? Maybe I can help...?”

It’s no secret that you love writing. You could power through four papers in one night—explains how you’re not busy doing your homework at such an hour like Jared. Maybe your passion for writing came from your inability to vocally express your thoughts sometimes; if you could just write what you wanted to say instead of talking, you’d do it. This particular assignment was easy— you were only given one word and all the artistic liberties to write whatever comes into mind: _infatuation_.

“Can you think of a synonym for ambiguous?” Jared furiously clicks around his screen, wanting to get this paper over with. Jared could bullshit his way through any paper, but a topic so personal— he couldn’t find a way around it. Jared Kleinman, with the thousands of walls he’s built around himself, is about to write a paper about _infatuation_.

“...Equivocal.” A pause follows.

“Nah.”

“Enigmatic, obscure, arcane?”

“Oh my God, slow down.” Jared sighs. “‘Equivocal’ will _have_ to do. I do suck at this, just so you know.”

“Can you read out the whole sentence? Just checking if you’re using it right.”

“You have no faith in me, don’t you?” He laughs quieter than he so boisterously does at the cafeteria, clasping your shoulder and clutching his sides. You find it cute. “Fine. ‘It’s the kind of desperation and lack of awareness that leaves room equivocal enough for him to believe that I...’ totally have the hots for him and yadda yadda, want me to skip to the part where I talk about his curvaceous ass?”

“Okay, I don’t know, stick to ‘obscure’. And that’s real funny. Didn’t know you were into... you know.”

“What, you’ve got a problem with that?” He sounds almost too defensive, and you were almost surprised, thinking he was just messing with you. You start to understand why. You’ve questioned it for some time before, but it’s always been about _you_ , and not Jared.

“No! No, it’s just— me too.” You find that you can’t be as stoic about it as him; it all seems so difficult when you were raised a certain way to discover that it’s not the road you’d rather go down on. You know your mother would still love you for who you are, but she's always been worried about how the other kids see you, how they'll treat you passing by in the halls. You hate more of how she worries, the way she sees you. She thinks you can't handle yourself. It reminds you of how much of a burden you are.

“Isn’t that delightful. Two gay men talking about their gay crushes.” 

You choke a little. “It’s, it's nothing like—“

“It’s exactly like that.” Jared sighs. “Aren’t you sick of hiding it?”

You don’t answer for a minute. He breathes deeply and you wish on everything in the sky that was just one secret to be hidden. There were actually _two_ — the other involving the boy in question (you've known him for years). “It’s been a while, is all. I haven’t had much reassurance.”

“Hope the thought of me knowing how that feels is reassuring enough to you.” You don’t remember the last time he was this sincere.

“But I’m still afraid, and that’s what’s been holding me back.” _You don’t remember the last time you were this honest._ “So just... waiting for something to happen, I guess.” It’s the anticipation that led you to believe that one day, maybe you don’t have to hide anymore. You’re the kind of person who’d rather do anything than _risk it_ , but perhaps you’ve agonized enough. _For now_ , you think to yourself.  

“...Me too. I’m going to finish up this paper. Good night, Evan.”

“Night. Love you.” It slips right past the teeth you’ve been clenching. Jared would _always_ be the one to hang up first, but this time the line still holds, and it’s as thin as the air in your room. “Oh, God.”

“Love you too.”

You sense that Jared feels the need to rewrite the entire paper.


End file.
